They Say True Love Hurts
by Inmyownwords92
Summary: This is just a short One-shot involving Brittana inspired by The Harold Song by Ke ha.


**AN: So this is just a short one shot inspired by Ke$ha's song The Harold Song. Hope you guys enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee of course. Because if, in fact I did, Brittana would already be together.**

It's easy pretending. You do it all the time, so you're pretty good at it. It comes in handy these days because inside, you're quickly crumbling. It's funny how you didn't see the things that were right in front of you. How you were so oblivious to them. Because you didn't see that while you were worrying about your image, your spot on the ladder of social hierarchy, and the next piece of man candy you were gonna have hang off of your arm, Brittany was right in front of you. She held her heart in her hands for you, waiting for you to reach out and take it. But you rejected it, that rejection stemmed from your ignorance to accept who you truly are. And now that she's gone, you see that she was the love of your life. And it kills you. Because now you've lost her to a boy who could never love her as much as you do. You've lost her to a boy who could never understand her as much as you do. You've lost her. You pretend that when you see them in the hall that it doesn't break you. You pretend that when no one is looking, that you don't stare at her, longing to hold her in your arms just one more time. You pretend that the life isn't quickly fading from you as she watches your heart bleed.

You miss her greatly. You miss her smile and the way her nose crinkles just the tiniest bit when she's doing it. You miss the way it always seems like there's this sunshine in her sparkling blue eyes that never fails to put a smile on your face. You miss her quirks and the things that she says that make no sense to others but makes all the sense in the world to you. You miss the way she sees the good in everyone. Especially you. You miss the taste of her on your tongue. You miss the way the spaces between your fingers fit hers perfectly. As if they were meant to go together. You miss her soft lips. You miss the way she wrapped around you so easily in the throes of things. You miss how she always sighed contently when she was in your arms. You miss that feeling of home that she gave you. And now you feel lost.

You see her face in the strangers on the street. You still say her name when you're talking in your sleep. Your thoughts are flooded with memories of the two of you. When things were easier. When things weren't as complicated or painful as they are now. It feels as if you have a case of phantom limb. Like something as vital as your leg or your right arm has been cut off and even though you know its not there, you can still imagine that you feel it there. That it never got cut off. You still feel Brittany in everything that you do. In every place that you go. Her presence is haunting you and you know that it's your fault things are like this. You know it's your fault that she's in his arms right now and not yours.

In the day, you can deal with it. You can take the pain and hurt in doses and convince yourself that you're okay. If you avoid them in the halls then it's okay. If you sit as far away from them in glee club you can convince yourself that it's okay. If you ignore that they exist then it's okay. You can feed off that knack for pretending and act like you aren't broken or like Brittany isn't with Artie. That she isn't giving him that special smile that use to be reserved for only you. That she isn't letting him touch her where she likes it the most, when it should be you. That she isn't giving herself completely to him because you were too scared to admit that you wanted her. In the light of day, you play it off like you're fine. You are pretty persuasive with telling yourself that everything is okay. But once the sun goes down, and night settles in, you know it's all a lie. You know that once again, you're lying to yourself so you don't have to deal with the truth. The truth being that if you would have opened your eyes, then Brittany would be yours. If you hadn't been so scared, then Brittany would be yours. If you didn't love pretending, Brittany would be yours. You know that you can't handle it when you turn off your night light. Because all you're left with are your thoughts and your regrets. And it's all too much.

They say that true love hurts but you know it could almost kill. Because with every move you die. Because you're constantly fighting to make it through the night. You know you're losing it. This so called love isn't hurting you, it's killing you. Hurt is an understatement, you think. Hurt is getting a scraped knee when you're six. Hurt is stubbing your toe on the coffee table. Hurt is falling off of your bike or falling on your ass when you're drunk. This? You know this is so much more than that. This is losing your fucking knee instead of scrapping it. This is getting you toe hung on that coffee table and having it ripped off. This is getting hit by a car while you're on that bike. True love is falling from a ten story window when you're drunk. You know its more intense, more life threatening than the scrape of a knee or the stub of a toe.

Now, instead of sleeping, you're thinking of all the time you and Brittany spent together. Like that time you hopped the fence into that Dashboard Confessional concert and while they played Stolen, she held your hand in hers. You didn't know back then that the feeling in your chest was a love that could change you but you swore it was the best night of your life anyways. Or the time you convinced both of your parents to let you take that road trip from Ohio to California. The car broke down halfway there and after having it fixed, your parents made you hightail it back home. Even though the trip was spoiled, it was worth it. It was worth it because before you left, you got to hold her in your arms and watch the sunrise. You promised the two of you would last forever. But now, as you're swallowed up by the silence, you realize it was your past life. A beautiful time where you were drunk off nothing but each other and the sun rise.

You think about trying to repair your friendship with her because at this point, you would give anything to have her back in your life. But logic drowns out that notion every time. Because you know you can't just be friends with her anymore. You know that you're gonna want all of her when she belongs to someone else now. You know that jealousy is gonna come out to play, that bitch side is gonna take over if you do and you're gonna do everything in your power to make her relationship with _him_ as hard as possible. You're gonna use your position as 'friend' for evil and not good and you're gonna end up hurting her. And that's the last thing that you want to do. You've been doing it for years and you refuse to do it anymore. So you push that thought aside. As much as you miss being close to her, you know trying to be friends with her again is only going to be messy. For your heart, for your mind, for your soul. It makes you feel selfish but really you just don't know what to do anymore.

You sigh into the stillness of your room. You know that sleep isn't going to come easy. Not with your mind running on repeat like it is. Before, you would just pull on your favorite shirt of Brittany's and that sense of home would send you into a peaceful sleep but since you threw it out the day she told you she couldn't hurt _him_ to be with _you, _you know you're shit out of luck tonight. You turn over in the bed that feels foreign without her next to you in it, to face the spot she had occupied for years. You run your fingers over the spot, thinking you can feel a dip from where she use to lay. It's cold where it use to be warm. The pillow still has a hint of her smell in it, even though you washed it a million times over so it wouldn't. For the fifth time tonight, you turn on your back and look at the ceiling. By now you have every groove, dent, and chip memorized. You've studied it so much, looking for answers you know it was never and will never give you, that you probably know it better than your own father's face. Again, you let out another sigh, wishing you could get a grip. But you know it's no use. You're paying for the ignorance you lived in for so long. You're paying for letting others influence the choices you made. You're paying for letting fear control you and every move you executed.

You glance out of your window to see specks of blue, dawn peeking over the horizon, and then look over to your clock. 5:30. Your thanking the heavens that it's Sunday and the fact that you can always sleep later. But you are exhausted. So exhausted and tired and drained. So you know what you have to do. You lasted longer today then you ever have in the past week. You let out a breath that etches your disappointment in the air. Etches out the weakness that she brings out in you. You don't waste time in grabbing your phone from the night stand a pressing one. It goes to your saved voice mails and you wait to hear the voice you've missed so much.

_Hey San! It's Brittany! Just calling to let you know that this so called vacation in Spain is __**Nothing**__ without you here. Gosh, I miss you. I hate that your parents didn't let you come with us. We would have had a blast here together. But it is super hot, like so hot. Hotter than you and that's saying something!-No, Mom, I'm talking to_-**BEEP.** _Shit San, the message cut me off. Anyways just wanted to call and tell you that I'm missing you every second and give me a call. Let me know how things are back home-Mom will you stop that! Sorry San, but ok I'm going now. Love ya lots. Oh! Check on Lord Tubbington for me yeah? He left me an email and said he was getting lonely over there by himself. K, bye!_-**BEEP.** **You have no more saved messages. Main Men-**

You close the phone before the operator can finish and let out a deep sigh. It seems to be the only action you know how to do now days. There's a small smile playing at the corner of your mouth because you can't deny that that voice mail makes you happy. Hearing her voice makes you happy. Brittany, everything that she is and will be, makes you happy. You can't deny that she might be the only person on this earth that doesn't irritate you. And that's saying something because mostly everyone irritates you. She knows how to deal with you. When you're being a bitch, when you're sad, when you're angry, when you're confused. Brittany always knew what to do to make you feel better. Brittany always knew just the thing to cheer you up. Brittany always knew exactly what you needed to be okay. Now the only thing that you need to truly be okay is her.

And in that moment you know you would give it all to not be sleeping alone. To have her in your bed again. In your arms again. Cuddled next to you, her even breaths lulling you into a peaceful sleep. You know you would give the popularity, the fear, your life, all of it, to not be sleeping alone. You know you would swallow your pride and grovel at her feet in hopes that she'll forgive you. You know you would face your parents and anyone else just to be able to call her yours. So in that moment, as you snuggle deeper into your bed, pulling the covers closer to you, you make the choice to push the fear aside. You make the choice to fight for her, even if it kills you. You make the choice to fight for your own happiness. With her voice playing over in your head like the soundtrack to your life, you close your eyes and let sleep take you over. Because tomorrow, you're gonna make some changes.


End file.
